


Breaking Tradition

by rhoen



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/rhoen
Summary: They've done the same thing for years. Raidou doesn't want to do it anymore.





	Breaking Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> They need an archive warning for abysmal writing.
> 
> Sorry it's late. I've had a lot eating at me, and this... is so below standard but it's _something_ and I'd be even more disappointed in myself if I didn't post anything.

Raidou has done this so many times over the years he’s almost lost count. He and Genma were genin when they started their own silly Valentine’s Day tradition, and now it’s so ingrained in their routine Raidou doesn’t know how to break it. For him the joke has long since faded, but Genma still enjoys the childishness of what they do, and his smiles and laughter are what keeps Raidou from turning around and saying, as he wants to, ‘no, not this year’.

Inoichi’s daughter has started working more hours in the flower shop. She’s the one who received Raidou’s order and put it together, and was there when he collected it. He’d said he didn’t want roses. He did roses last year. What he’s been given, and is currently sitting at his breakfast bar staring at, is a beautiful bouquet of flowers, half of which he can’t identify. It’s a celebration of life and colour, a clear gesture of affection, and Raidou doesn’t know if he can bring himself to do what he wants to and throw it in the bin. Ino had been eager to hear his approval of her work, and he’d given it with a lump in his throat. She’d put as much care into the bouquet as Raidou would if… Well, if any of this were real.

But it’s not real. He and Genma aren’t a couple. The exchange of gifts only came about because Raidou mentioned one year how he disliked the day because he invariably received nothing, and Genma had decided to rectify that. Since then they’ve exchanged gifts every year, as a friends thing. Only, it’s not so easy for Raidou. It’s been a good few years since the feeling of friendship he had turned into something more. He fell for his best friend a long time ago. The Valentine’s Day gifts were, for two or three years, given with hope – hope that Genma might grow to share the same feelings – and then resignation when he realised that nothing was going to change. Genma was the same with him as always, always joking, always laughing, never giving any indication that he found Raidou attractive. After all, why would he? As a kid Raidou wasn’t attractive. He wasn’t pretty or handsome, he was stern and rough around the edges. As a teen he was awkward and unsure of himself, and a fifth of his body became twisted with ugly scars. In his late teens he’d started hoping, in his early twenties the hope faded. Now, almost thirty, he stares at the flowers and wonders what has become of his life. He barely exists beyond paper. He does missions, he fulfils his duties as a shinobi of Konoha, and that’s about it. There is nothing lasting of him, no love, no children, no legacy. He has a handful of friends who will miss him, but no one who knows his heart.

He’s startled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. He can guess who it is, and considers ignoring it. Genma won’t go away, though. He’ll know Raidou is there. With a weary sigh, he goes to answer the door.

Genma’s smile is radiant. He’s grinning even before the door is fully opened, and Raidou stands there, dumbfounded by it. He loves this man, and instantly feels guilty for doing so. Genma thinks they’re just friends. He would recoil in horror if he knew just what Raidou felt for him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Genma beams, holding out a neatly wrapped present.

Raidou suspects it’s dark chocolate again. He hesitates in taking it, not because he doesn’t enjoy the gift, but because he feels like he’s taking advantage.

Genma’s face falls, and Raidou feels even worse. “Can I at least come in?” he asks.

Without a word, Raidou pushes the door open, and lets him in, moving back into the kitchen before Genma has even finished taking off his sandals.

“So, what’s— Oh wow.” Genma, following him, catches sight of the flowers on the breakfast bar, still sitting in the vase Raidou shoved them in as he tried to decide if he wanted to keep them or destroy them. “Who are they from?”

“No one,” Raidou says, his tone rough and abrupt.

Genma lowers his gaze to the present still in his hand, thumbing the smooth paper. After a moment he pushes the gift onto the counter, next to the flowers. “They’re beautiful.”

He sounds forlorn, and for a moment his face is hidden. Then, barely a second later, Raidou has to assume he imagined it, as Genma looks up at him with a smile. He crosses over to where Raidou is preparing tea, and slides up onto the worktop, in Raidou’s way.

“So? Who are they from?”

“Get down,” Raidou scolds, not in the mood for games.

Genma does as he’s told when Raidou pushes at his hip. “Why do you look so down? Don’t you like them? Who are they from? Were they anonymous?”

Raidou frowns at the cups as he sets them out. “They’re not from anyone,” he at last admits, wanting the questions to stop.

“What do you mean?”

Raidou’s shoulders tense into a shrug as the somewhat bitter words escape his mouth. “They were for you.”

Genma freezes, and then a moment later gives an audible exhale, and a soft: “Oh.” He moves out of Raidou’s way, towards the flowers, and out of the corner of his eye Raidou sees him admiring them even closer, his fingers caressing the petals of a pink and orange flower. “They’re beautiful,” he says again. “Thank you.”

His attention once again on the tea, Raidou tries to shut out Genma’s words. He doesn’t like this tradition. This has to be the last time. He can’t go through with it again, with feeling this way as he gives Genma something heartfelt only to be thought of as a friend fulfilling an obligation. He should have just gone with the roses again, they’re cliché and impersonal.

“Raidou?” Genma calls after a moment. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m fine,” he lies, holding out a cup of tea for Genma. He watches Genma’s hand as he takes it, and feels the brush of cool fingers against his own, causing him to falter. He suppresses a shiver at the contact, at the rasp of dry skin against weapon-worn callouses, and abruptly turns away. How many times has he imagined those hands elsewhere, touching him with affection and desire?

Genma sets his tea down to the side without taking a sip. “You don’t look fine,” he presses. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lies again.

Genma frowns in concern. “Rai, please. You know you can talk to me.” There’s a pause in which Raidou says nothing, and then Genma’s face shifts into one of sad understanding. “Is it today? Is that what’s getting to you?”

Raidou shakes his head, trying to deny it, but the fact he won’t look at Genma gives it away.

“Rai…” Genma breathes, moving closer. “Put your tea down. Come on, I’ll give you a hug.”

“Don’t,” Raidou warns, tensing and shifting away, desperate to avoid any further contact. He doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t think he can’t take it.

“It’s just a hug, Rai,” Genma says, sounding sad. “I don’t mean anything by it, I just want to make you feel better.”

He knows that. He knows Genma means absolutely nothing by it beyond friendly comfort. “I’m fine” he insists, keeping his cup close to his chest, as if it can shield him.

Genma looks hurt, angry almost. “‘I’m fine,’” he parrots. “‘I’m okay,’ ‘nothing’s wrong’. Come on, give me more credit than that. Are you going to be honest with me, or not?”

Raidou’s heart falls. He can’t say anything to that. The truth isn’t an option, and nor is trying to insist he’s okay. He won’t insult Genma by lying to him again.

But the damage is already done. Genma huffs when he receives no reply, pulling away. “Keep the flowers,” he says, his voice tight. “After all, you said they ‘were’ for me, not that they ‘are’ for me. Good luck with whoever it is you want to give them to.”

He’s almost reached the door before Raidou finds his voice, his body finally kicking into action. “Wait!” he calls, moving forward. He’s surprised when Genma does as he asks, and finds he doesn’t know what to do next. He discards his tea, leaving his hands free; idle. To his horror, they reach for the present Genma brought him, picking it up and holding it out. His heart is racing, his breathing coming in short, horrified rushes as he waits for the consequence of his action to hit him.

Slowly, staring at him with open-mouthed astonishment, Genma’s gaze shifts from Raidou’s, to the gift. For a moment Raidou hopes he’ll tell him to keep it, but then, with a look of sorrow, Genma reaches out to take it back. His fingers close around the box, and the weight of it passes from Raidou’s hands to Genma’s.

“I’m sorry,” Genma breathes, the words so soft Raidou almost doesn’t hear them.

His heart breaks a little in that moment as Genma turns and leaves, and he’s not sure why. It feels like he’s just lost something irreplaceable. He’s done it – he’s broken the tradition – and, despite wanting that not ten minutes ago, he can’t imagine feeling more alone.

**Author's Note:**

> If there's enough interest I might finish this, but right now I'm tired and sad and need a hug.


End file.
